One Last Goodnight
by PurpleKangaroo
Summary: Wendy, now a grandmother, spends one last night in the nursery. I guess you could call it a oneshot. My way to resolve happily what I felt never really got resolved.


**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Peter Pan or any of the characters.

**A/N:** _This is just a quick I guess you could call it reunion/one-shot. I'm sure it's been done before, but this is how I always pictured it working out. I don't expect a lot of people to read this fic, but that's okay. I just had to resolve it somehow, I hated the fact there was no real closure, you know? Well. Happy closure._

**One Last Goodnight**

"Does it look alright, Mother?"

"It looks fine, Jane dear."

Wendy knew her daughter wasn't paying attention. The woman's hands were already at her hair, fixing a stray curl fashionably as her tongue clicked twice in approval at the reflection facing her. She wasn't looking at Wendy, the question had been an afterthought, a way to confirm what Jane had already assured herself of.

"Thank you so much for watching over the children tonight, mother. This night could just be so important for James and I, and I just," Jane turned at last to face her mother, who watched her grown-up daughter with quiet pride. Jane's smile was distracted. Busy. Adult. Wendy knew her smile hadn't always been like that. Somewhere along the way, Jane stopped leaving the window open, stopped telling stories. So Wendy told them instead, and Jane often admonished her for filling her grandchildren's heads with such silly stories, at which point Wendy would gently remind her that Jane herself had used to love them. And for a second, sometimes, the adult would fade, and her daughter- her child, would smile wistfully at her and let the subject rest.

"Now, Eleanor needs to be in bed by seven, and William, too, though if he's good I promised you would let him stay up an extra half-hour, but not any longer than that, Mother because-"

"Jane,"

"-and then we'd never get him to go to bed at a decent hour and then what would we-"

"_Jane."_

"-of course, I suppose that it would be all right if-"

"JANE, darling, I do know how to put a child to bed." Wendy chuckled lightly, her wrinkled hands folding lightly over the cane that her husband had given her a few years before his death. She remembered, once, Jane asking her if she loved daddy. Wendy had said yes, and Jane had crossed her legs and peered up at Wendy and said no, did she _really _love him.

She'd grown to. He was as dear to her as John, or Michael. Hard to imaging they were gone…was it seven years now? But her husband, she loved him, in her own way. But did she _really _love him?

"Mother?"

"Sorry, Jane. I suppose I was wool-gathering." Wendy sighed, feeling her bones and the vague ache as she did. "My mind wanders these days." There was the smile again. The adult smile.

"Oh, mother. Do be careful." Jane put a hand to her mother's cheek, pressing it lightly. "Take care of yourself. And _do _keep that nursery window closed. You'll catch a chill and that will be the end of it."

Wendy shook her head and shooed her daughter out of the nursery. "Out, out. You'll be late."

"Goodbye, Mother."

"Goodbye, Jane."

-------

The room was quiet. Eleanor lay curled in her soft, modern bed, arm tucked around a stuffed duck. William slept sprawled out, one of his pillows already on the floor. Slowly, carefully, Wendy stood up and retrieved it, grimacing as she bent to pick it up and return it underneath her grandson's head. She returned to her chair and paused, listening to the clock tick as she stood in front of it, looking at the sad, old rocker for a long, long few moments. Past the clock, to the open window. She put the old cane down, and made her way to it, reaching a hand out and contemplating it quietly. It was the same hand. Same size, same length. The skin didn't fit it quite right anymore, but it was just as soft as it used to be, and the callouses had stayed. She laid it on the latch, but didn't switch it. Simply pressed the window closed with a loud groan she wasn't sure came from her or the window.

_Wendy? _

Wendy! Why'd ya close the window?

I didn't think you'd be back, Peter. Not now.

_I toldya I'd come for you! Now come on!_

Oh, Peter. Oh, Peter, I can't. I'm old now. I'm tired. I don't remember how to fly.

_I'll teach you._

I don't remember what it's like to be a child.

_I'll teach you._

Will you Peter? Will you?

_I will._

Don't laugh at my hands, Peter, when you take them. They're old and wrinkly. Don't you laugh, I know they're old.

_No they're not, Wendy. Look at 'em. See? You'll learn, Wendy. John and Michael did. You'll learn._

"Grandma?"

"Eleanor?"

"Is that him?"

"Is that who?"

"The one Mommy said you _really _loved."

Wendy reached out to touch Eleanor's cheek, brush the hair back and kiss her on the forehead. Funny, it didn't hurt to lean over anymore. "Sweet dreams, Eleanor."

"Sweet dreams, Grandma."

_Let's go, Wendy!_

Far, far away.

_**A/N:** And that's it! I've always loved and hated the story of Peter Pan. It always made me so sad that Peter lost Wendy, and Wendy had to grow up and lose what every child has. So to fix it in my head, I always imagined she got to return to being a child when it was her time, and keep on fighting Hook with Pan and the others. So that's that. Sorry it's crap, I wrote it after watching the Jeremy Sumpter movie, which I love, but which always makes me really sad. As I've said. Fifteen minutes to write this, and yes, I know you can tell. Sorry._


End file.
